With Closed Eyes
by The Quiet Place
Summary: Without Noir, they were just Mirielle and Kirika. And in a way, that was far, far more difficult. Post fic.
1. Exsanguination

**Exsanguination: **

_--Method the first.--_

"Go."

Her voice echoed starkly in the tunnel.

"Run away."

Somewhere in the distance, a light hummed and flickered.

Kirika crouched in a small alcove, peering into the darkness and holding the gun close to her body.

"Get out of here. Now."

She didn't even look round, just stared down the length of the tunnel as if she could see something, anything, at its end.

Then the shadows next to her moved and a hand grasped her by the shoulder.

"What are you waiting for? Get out of here!"

Kirika let out a long, long breath, and gripped her gun as if it were the only thing she had in the world.

"Can you stand?"

Slumped against the wall next to her, Mirielle's lips twitched and she let out something that might have been a laugh.

"It's a little late….for that."

"We'll wait here."

"I'm telling you, it's too—"

The hand on Kirika's shoulder convulsed suddenly, and Mirielle fell silent.

Something dripped to the ground.

"We'll wait."

The light flickered again.

"Kirika…."

Finally, the girl turned to her companion, who looked up at her through an eye almost swollen shut.

"Mirielle." She murmured.

"You're…an idiot."

"Am I?"

The woman sighed, a smile twitching on her bloodied lips.

"You always were." She whispered.

And there they sat, waiting for the hunters to find them.

They weren't long.

* * *

It began with that dream.


	2. Speak

**(Parler)** **With Closed Eyes**

_I. Speak_

It was 3a.m on a stifling Sunday morning when the screaming began.

It took her a few moments, jerked abruptly out of her slumber, to remember what was happening, until the air was rent by an agonised cry.

"Lesdeuxno…viergesonegaiavecnoleursMAINS…onegainoonegai_PLEASENONO_"

It was disjointed and interrupted by choked breaths but the words went straight through her.

She sat and grabbed the thrashing girl by the shoulders and gave her a single, fierce shake.

"Kirika. Wake up."

And just like that, the girl's eyes flashed open, staring right through her at some dire vision. In the silvery light from the window, beads of sweat stood out in sharp relief on her skin as she gasped.

"You had a bad dream. It's ok."

After a moment her eyelashes drooped and she slumped back into the damp sheets.

"Miri…elle…"

"You had a bad dream." The woman repeated. Kirika nodded, but her small hands still trembled as she struggled to free herself from the bedclothes twisted around her. Mirielle helped unwind them and the girl sat, drawing her knees up to her chest. Neither of them spoke for a while, the Kirika just looking into the distance under lowered eyelids, Mirielle watching her sideways. Then she glanced over at the clock and groaned, rubbing her forehead.

"I'm sorry."

Mirielle just shook her head with a low 'mmph'. She stretched, and plucked at the nightdress stuck to her skin. Then she got to her feet.

Kirika's head jerked up at the movement but the woman merely laid her hand on her thin shoulder before walking down to rest of their apartment and across to the only window still closed, pushing it open. Then she turned and looked back up at the girl, as if she could feel her eyes following her, and came back across. She sat down on the bed with a sigh, smoothing out the sheet next to her.

"…sorry." Kirika whispered.

"It's fine. Same one?"

"Mm."

"You're having it a lot recently. Is it the heat?"

She shrugged, pressing her face into her knees.

"Could be the painkillers." Mirielle mused to herself. "We'll see about reducing them."

She didn't get a response. Kirika was very, very still, her breathing inaudible. Another person might have thought she'd fallen asleep again. Mirielle knew better.

She just lay back down, stretching out her long legs and then curling back up again, closing her eyes. After a moment, the girl brought her head back up from her legs and looked at her from under a curtain of hair.

"Mirielle…."

"Lie down."

After a long pause, she did, facing the other woman, but didn't move after that. Mirielle sighed again, opened her eyes and saw that she was peering into her face as if waiting, uncertain of something.

It was part of what they did, letting things like this go unspoken. The question was obvious to both of them, almost painfully so, but neither could acknowledge it with anything but a look, or the slightest of nods, almost a twitch, that Mirielle gave her.

The bed creaked as Kirika crept closer and the woman's legs uncurled to accommodate her. Her cheek brushed against Mirielle's collar bone. It was wet.

"It was bad this time, wasn't it." The woman murmured. It wasn't really a question.

She felt Kirika nod, and the slightest tickle of breath as she spoke. It made her shiver.

"I did…_things_."

It was a strange thing to say, but the meaning was easy to understand. Mirielle knew better than to ask what. If she did receive an answer, it was unlikely to be anything she wished to hear. Besides, making the girl repeat it was probably unnecessarily cruel.

So instead, she asked, "In your dream?"

Kirika nestled into her, and her eyelash brushed against her skin. She was very close, but even then Mirielle barely caught the faint tremble in her voice as she replied.

"Don't know."

She didn't ask anything else. What could she?

So instead she just stayed where she was and let Kirika rest against her. She didn't hold her (that would be a little to close to breaking that unspoken agreement, their rule), but she did tuck a stray strand of black hair behind a delicate ear, running her thumb along its edge. Everything about the girl was small, almost fragile, which made her in a way all the more unnerving. _A disturbing enigma_, Mirielle had called her once: but the more she understood of Kirika, the less and less _disturbing_ she found her.

Especially after that first nightmare.

A soft sound from the Kirika drew her back out of her thoughts. Her fingertips had found the sweep of her slender neck, trailing down to her shoulders; she drew her hand away as quickly as she dared and let it hang loosely round the girl (not holding her, not quite).

And feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, keeping her eyes determinedly shut as she knew the other girl was, a small voice in her mind questioned exactly how much less of an enigma Kirika was becoming to her.

She crushed it.

Presently, she felt sleep begin to creep back up on her. For a moment, she wondered if she should move; but then it occurred to her that if she did, she might wake the girl. Satisfied with that thought, she let herself relax, and soon slipped into a deep and dreamless slumber.

It the hot, moonlit apartment Kirika lay with her eyes closed, quite, quite awake.

-----------------

_Ownership of Noir belongs to its creators. _


	3. Ask

**II. Ask**

"Do you want to go to school?"

She paused, with her hands in the sink, looking at a particularly stubborn stain on the countertop. It looked a little like blood, which it quite possibly was. A lot of their furniture had never been the same since the night Soldat had arrived at the door. The repairs had almost outstripped the landlord's bribe.

She leaned back, peering round the corner of the kitchen. Kirika was sat at the table with her back to her, distributing scrambled eggs around her plate with a fork.

"Did you hear me?" Mirielle asked. The girl nodded, once, and brought the fork to her mouth. The woman watched her for a minute, but no reply was forthcoming and she went back to washing up. She had learned not to be irritated by the girl's frequent non-responses: she would reply eventually, after some thought. It was a growing trait of hers, but perhaps that was to be expected. The affair at the manor was more than just a brief shock to the system, injuries notwithstanding.

In truth, the question had been on her mind for a while, especially as she soon planned to go back into some form of work. They still hadn't discussed it, though. It was mainly on Kirika's part; it had quickly become evident that the girl had changed since the _incident_, as Mirielle was quickly coming to think of it, and in unpredictable ways. She slept lots, ate little, and spent a lot of time just staring off into space. Sometimes she read. She didn't draw unless Mirielle asked her if she felt like doing it, trying to prod her out of one of her trances that seemed to take her for hours at a time.

All this was aside from the physical damage. Part of the reason Kirika was so distant now was because of the large amount of painkillers she was on. Her injuries really had been very serious.

Mirielle drained the sink and rinsed her hands. It was easier not to think about it, and she preferred not to. Instead she took another look at the stain. What was it? Maybe she was just being paranoid. It would be typical of her to think it was blood. Not so much _morbid_ as _pragmatic_, she decided. Taking up the dishcloth, she scrubbed at it. No effect.

"It's up to you." She said. "Getting you enrolled won't be much trouble."

"Mm."

The fork scraped slightly against the plate. Mirielle shuddered.

"You don't have to decide now. It's just something for you to think about."

"Uhuh."

"I'm going to go shopping later. Do you want to come with me?"

"Mm."

That could either mean yes or no. Mirielle threw the useless dishcloth into the sink and walked into the other room. Kirika didn't look up as she took a seat across from her. After a moment, she spoke.

"It hurts today."

"Oh." Well, that was to be expected. She had thrown herself around quite violently last night, during that dream.

Last night…

"Are you going to work again?"

Mirielle looked up in shock at the girl, staring down into her plate. Where did that come from?

"Well—"

"It's just that…I know I'm not well enough yet, but…"

The fork squeaked against the china a second time.

"I honestly don't know." Mirielle said. "We have enough to last us a while, if you're worried about money."

"I don't want…"

Mirielle leaned forwards.

"Yes?"

Kirika's eyes slid shut, her hair hanging in her face. When she spoke, it was slowly.

"You shouldn't just stay here…because I…I am."

The words seemed too loud in the quiet apartment. Everything was still.

(It was part of their agreement that things stayed unspoken).

_What agreement_, thought Mirielle suddenly, _when did that happen_?

The answer came to her: it had never really happened, things had always just been that way between them.

The chair scraped back as she stood. The girl's expression hadn't changed, but she was very, very still.

"You think too much." Mirielle said.

Kirika nodded.

"Don't worry about school." She said. "It's just a thought, that's all."

"Ok."

"I'm going out. Are you coming with me?"

"…I don't know."

"Well, make up your mind. Are you finished?"

"Yes."

She walked round the table, scooped up the girl's plate with her half-eaten breakfast on it, and carried it away into the kitchen. But instead of cleaning it, she set it down on the counter and just leaned there, staring at the blank re-plastered walls. She suddenly wondered if there were any bullets left in there, covered over, unseen.

And then something made her walk back over to the table where Kirika was sat, her head in her hands.

"Kirika."

"Mm."

She stood behind the girl, watching the uneven rise and fall of her shoulders, the slender fingers knotted in her unkempt black hair, and suddenly her mouth was dry.

"Are you…crying?"

"I'm okay."

"You _are_ crying. You shouldn't lie to me, you know."

"Sorry."

She sighed.

"What's wrong?"

She didn't respond. Mirielle laid her hand on the girl's shoulder.

"I….I'm not sure."

"You don't know why you're crying?"

"…..no."

That put her at a loss. Staring into space, non-responsiveness she could deal with, but this sort of emotion with seemingly no reason for it threw her for a loop. The girl's shoulder was quite bony. She squeezed it.

"You don't seem well. I think I'll go another time."

Kirika's head came up.

"Don't—"

"Does it hurt?"

After a moment, her face sunk back into her hands again, body seeming to slump.

"It hurts." She said.

Mirielle's fingertips brushed the skin under the girl's ear. She leaned into the touch.

"It really hurts, Mirielle."

Something stirred painfully inside the woman's chest.

"I know." She murmured back. Her fingers slid slowly down the girl's neck, towards her shoulders.

"I know."


	4. Curse

**III. Curse**

On another Sunday afternoon in Paris, still swelteringly hot, the young girl once known as Noir was tapping her fingers against the windowsill with a smile on her face. The cars rushing past and the babble of crowds floated up from the pavement, and it seemed to please her. The tapping grew louder; it might have been in rhythm with the flow of sound from below.

Mirielle looked up from the magazine she was reading.

"You seem restless."

Kirka flicked a stray strand of hair back out of her face.

"Do you want to go somewhere?"

"Maybe."

"Is that a yes, or a no?"

"…Maybe."

"Which one is it, then?"

"Depends."

This was something else that was different, the smallest hint of teasing. It only happened very occasionally, and when it did it was sometimes difficult to tell. This time Kirika's voice was deadpan, so Mirielle gave her a serious response anyway.

"Well, if you do decide to go, I'm not planning on going anywhere so you probably won't need to take a key."

"Okay."

She flicked through a few pages of adverts and sighed. Apart from the one pair of shoes, there wasn't anything that really caught her eye, certainly nothing worth getting up and making the effort to go out in the sun for. There were a few books she had stacked up to read anyway. Classics, that sort of thing. More likely she would crack and end up reading some crappy romance with her feet on the pool table. Really refined, as befitting the _Daughter of Corsica_. Her lips twisted slightly at the thought.

"I…kind of want some ice-cream."

She looked up again.

"Do you?"

"Mm."

And there was the question that wasn't a question. Mirielle scanned the last page, thinking of her books, of the heat, of what might or might not have been a tease.

"There's a place near the park."

"Okay."

The bin rattled and toppled over as the magazine landed in it.

Kirika looked over her shoulder, and smiled.

-----------------

There were too many people, dogs, cars. It seemed to make the air closer, drier. Even the shade was a little too much.

A small drop of ice-cream splattered on the table.

Kirika didn't notice it. She was bent over, propped up by her elbows, demolishing the thing lick by cautious lick. But her eyes weren't on what she was doing.

Mirielle tapped one of her long nails (crimson, why had she chosen crimson, oh really _refined, _talons) on the plastic surface and looked, for the fifth time, at the man sat on the bench, reading his newspaper in his suit as if he wasn't surrounded by people in shorts and summer dresses.

Had he even turned the page? She looked away. It was one of those things like the stain in her kitchen, paranoia. But the stain might not just be a stain, and the man might not just be a man in his suit reading his newspaper.

His top button was done up.

"There's a man behind you."

_Tap_, went her nail on the table. Pink, next time. Less flashy (_trashy_).

"What does he look like?"

Kirika's little pink tongue came out again, scooping up the smallest bit of ice-cream.

"He's wearing a suit."

_There are lots of men in suits, Mirielle_, _some people have regular jobs. _

"What else?" She asked, glancing around them.

"He's stood near the bookshop, talking to another man. The other man has a cane."

Her handbag brushed against her hip as she sat up. It was heavy. She wondered if Kirika had her gun.

"An old man?"

"There are people in the way."

Another scoop of ice-cream, a longer one. Her lips were slightly shiny. Mirielle looked away, a little confused with herself.

"The man with a cane's gone."

"What's the first man doing?"

The man on the bench folded up his newspaper, stood, and dropped it at his feet.

"He's coming towards us."

"Finish your ice-cream."

Kirika's eyes met hers, and she took a bite into her cone, and another. Small white teeth.

She could hear the sound of shoes on gravel behind her. The newspaper man slid his hands in his pockets as he walked away, and kept them there.

A shadow fell across them as a tall man walked past.

Kirika slid the last remains of her cone into her mouth, and stood. Mirielle did the same, hand on her bag as she did so. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the newspaper man walk towards the river.

_A man with a cane_, she thought to herself. _Plenty of men with canes_.

"Come on."

They walked out into the park. She kicked the newspaper as she walked past.

And froze.

Kirika looked up at her, and then down at the paper and began to reach for it.

Mirielle snatched at the hand that was reaching and walked quickly away, almost dragging the girl behind her. Her eyes darted left and right.

"_Fuck_." She muttered. The girl gave her a confused look and she realised she'd said it in Corsican.

They left the gates and started across the street. Kirika twisted suddenly, her fingers slipping free of grip, and Mirielle realised she hadn't let go of her hand.

"The man with the cane—"

"Come on."

A trickle of sweat ran down her back. Her cheeks felt hot.

They slipped into an alley and came out quickly into a side street. It was quieter here. A taxi whizzed by. A teenage boy walking past gawked openly at her. She felt a sudden urge to shout at him, anyone. A man in a leather jacket walked round the corner, hands bunched in his baggy jeans. He looked at her, and she bristled without thinking about it.

Then she noticed two things. One, apart from him, they were alone. Second, Kirika had gone very still.

_Quick—_

She whipped out the gun.

_Bang._

--and it clattered out of her hand as she cried out.

_Bastard—hit me—quick—pick up the gun—_

She heard laughter and saw him aim, but not at her. Kirika stared down the barrel of the gun with the same blank expression she had on her face as always. It was almost a dare. _Go on_, that look said, _shoot me. See how far you get. But don't waste your time trying to make me afraid, because that's just not going to happen. _

But beside her, Mirielle found that suddenly, she was honestly, genuinely frightened.

_Bang_.

The gunfire seemed heinously loud in the small street, but she heard no voices, no screaming of passerbys. The pain seemed to have dulled her senses; she clutched her arm, feeling it quiver wetly under her hand, and tried not to make a sound.

A body lay before her in a puddle of blood, a neat hole in the back of its head.

But she wasn't looking at _him_. She was looking at the man behind him, the man in the suit, with his top button done, re-holstering his gun.

Kirika's aim shifted to him in an instant.

"You! Mirielle called out. Her voice was a little cracked and she cursed herself.

The man made no reply, already turning away, but looked past them. There was the sound of a car pulling away. She caught a glimpse of it; large, silver, non-descript. A shadow in the back-seat.

_They _were_ following us. _

"Wait." Called Kirika.

Mirielle turned to see the man's retreating back.

"Hey, you! You're Soldats, aren't you? _Hey_!"

They started forward, but suddenly the ground shifted under her, and a jolt of pain shot up her arm.

Mirielle swore again, caught the first sound of sirens in the distance, and then swore a little louder.

----------------

In the park, a pleasant breeze had picked up. It blew around the leaves and rubbish, ruffling the pages of an abandoned newspaper next to a bench. No one paid it any mind; in any case, it had the mucky mark of a shoe on it, and someone had scribbled a word across the picture on the back page.

In block capitals, it read: NOIR.

------

_Author's note: _

_Hi guys, and thanks for reading With Closed Eyes so far. I hope you're enjoying it. Now, as you may have guessed, this fic is based around the relationship between Mirielle and Kirika, and particularly the odd brand of miscommunication they seem to share. It's also a bit of an experiment for me in a new writing style, I guess._

_Obviously reviews = good, but if you feel there's something that needs tuning up or there's direction you think it'd be good to see the story go in a certain direction, do drop us a line. On the other hand, if you just want to tell me I made a stupid typo on line 34 and I need to sort my life out, that would be much appreciated too._

_OK, hopefully it won't be too long until the next update. Thanks again for reading. ___


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